| Ohhh, an artery is not a vein
|
| No history can tell
|
| My skeleton won’t tell
|
| Why some like moths draw
|
| To a surgeon’s drill
|
| And bloodshot hits to marrow
|
| The snake’s eaten through her clothes and
|
| Her charms that won me over
|
| DeGama breached this lofty reach
|
| Balboa left his bones upon the beach
|
| Left there to bleach
|
| A rose breaks in my fingers
|
| Pullin' nickels through the stem too much has took its toll
|
| Smoke crawls low along the ceilings
|
| And all is quiet
|
| But I keep listening
|
| They come to kill me
|
| Oh, she just left, you missed her
|
| Go on home, the sex theater is closed
|
| Cracked mouth, too dry to drink
|
| At least the sand is cold
|
| You wish the sea would drown the freeway
|
| Instead, girls stare in dead-eyed wonder
|
| They can’t walk for fallen soldiers
|
| Used by cops and fucked inside abandoned boarding houses
|
| Go on fast before the beast catches the bastard
|
| Draggin' the chain down, down, down
|
| Who’ll say it
|
| Tell me
|
| No one else is here, come on
|
| Nothin' to believe is to be blessed, come on
|
| Who’s layin' low, you said
|
| Weather veins no bones to be
|
| Good or bad, the death of me
|
| Just make it quietly
|
| Oh, who knows my sister
|
| Can’t anyone admit the fact that they infected her
|
| She said the sun was gonna burn and blister
|
| My blood
|
| Godspeed
|
| God
|
| Love her
|
| Farewell, honey
|
| Yeah
|
| No mourning son’ll move her
|
| No hellbent amen or hallelujah
|
| Prayers are for the dead left over
|
| The breached never to reach that sandy beach
|
| Poor baby girl’s gone under
|
| To each their own grave buried in
|
| Underneath abandoned boarding houses
|
| Sidewalks and streets
|
| Sidewalks and streets
|
| Though my skeleton won’t tell
|
| Some could see
|
| Why moths draw to surgeons' drills
|
| And blood shots
|
| Hit the marrow |